Young Jack The Curse
by tavern hottie
Summary: In this instalment, Jack is 23 years old and has been captain of the Black Pearl for the last five years. He has heard of the treasure that Cortez had hidden from the church and has decided that he wants it. Little does he know what he’s in for.
1. Forgive me Father, I have sinned

Thanks everyone for your comments. This is my first foray into fan fiction and I hope everyone gets as much enjoyment out of it as I do.  
  
In this instalment, Jack is 23 years old and has been captain of the Black Pearl for the last five years. He has heard of the treasure that Cortez had hidden from the church and has decided that he wants it. Little does he know what he's in for.  
  
Read on!  
  
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Ch 1. Forgive me Father, I have Sinned.  
  
Jack rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back from the book he was reading. It was written in a heavy archaic mix of Latin and Spanish and was at least two hundred years old. He glanced around the dark room and at the few flickering candles he had dared to light. He was surprised that he had escaped notice for this long. Shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, he scratched again at his armpit and the small, crawly things hidden there. He swore softly at the monk who had previously owned the robe for his lack of hygiene and turned back to the book.  
  
The book he was attempting to read was the official church record of Cortez's journeys to the new world. It described the journey in detail, from manifests and lists of equipment to books of detailed logs of the sea routes taken and what Cortez had discovered and brought back. Jack's search for this tome had taken him from the Port-of-Spain in the Caribbean all the way to mainland Spain herself. Earlier in the night Jack had, not unkindly, relieved a Franciscan monk of his senses and then his clothes. He had then sneaked into the scriptorium at the monastery and had finally found the book he was after. He was searching it for mention of a chest of gold that had been taken from the native Aztec but had never made it back to Spain. Cortez had hidden it for some reason. It had to be somewhere.  
  
Jack stared again at the compass where it sat next to the book. It was about three inches square, made of leather bound in brass and looked innocent if age worn. It also seemed to be broken until you moved it. The north indicator should have pointed north but here in Spain it continued to point in a south-westerly direction regardless of which way you turned it. On the high seas it was useless. Jack kept it out of respect for Bootstrap Bill who had gifted it to him five years ago after Jack had captured his beloved ship. Jack smiled at the memory.  
  
*  
  
"You're daft boy, do ye realise that?" Bootstrap Bill told the young man beside him as he eyed the ship riding at anchor in the bay.  
  
"Daft, no. Know what I want, yes. Besides, we've captured bigger ships that this one," the young man replied, gesturing to the ship, dark eyes not wavering as he gazed hungrily at her.  
  
"Aye, that may be. But we've always been on our own ship to do the capturing. This is crazy Jack," Bootstrap hissed, not missing the hint of red visible as marines patrolled her black decks.  
  
Jack finally tore his gaze from the HMS Prideful and smiled lopsidedly at the man beside him, "I may be crazy father, but when have I ever failed, ay?"  
  
Bootstrap let go of the branch he was holding on to and gazed levelly at his eighteen year old son. He saw again the stamp of his Creole mother on him. The face before him had high cheekbones above which Bootstraps dark eyes twinkled merrily. Black hair had been tied back under a rich red headscarf and beads and coins hung from some of his plaits as charms against ill luck and just plain mementoes of past travels. His chin was graced by dark fluff that he was vainly trying to coax into a goatee. The dark honey coloured skin was smooth and tanned from years at sea. Bootstrap had to admit that his son, Jack Turner, though brash and a show- off was a master of calculated risk. And he hungered to captain his own ship.  
  
"I can think of a number of times," Bootstrap replied, "But somehow you always manage to claw your way out of the midden."  
  
Jack smile widened. He had indeed done just that a couple of years ago to avoid some of the local lawmen after he had crept into a house to kiss a pretty girl - on a bet.  
  
Jack's gaze returned to the Prideful as his mind spun with ideas on how he could commandeer her. He felt, rather than saw, Bootstrap shake his head and move back from the ridge they were lying on. Jack sighed. He respected and maybe even admitted to loving the old coot a bit, but he could be a stiff man to bend at times. A movement in front of his nose startled Jack as a sparrow landed on the branch and cocked its head, fixing a beady brown eye on him.  
  
"Shoo," Jack breathed, "You're in my way."  
  
The sparrow's head darted left and right as it stared at him. It even chirruped at him.  
  
"Shoo," Jack said a little louder whilst moving his hand slightly to waive the bird away.  
  
To his complete astonishment, the sparrow hopped complacently onto his finger and fluffed its feathers then started to preen itself. Jack had never confronted anything other than a particularly bad tempered parrot that had wanted to sit on his hand before. Most sailors superstitiously considered birds to be unlucky unless it was an albatross flying in the wake of a ship as an albatross warded away bad storms.  
  
"Well mate, what do you think ay? D' you reckon I'm crazy setting my sights on that ship?" he asked the bird.  
  
The sparrow stopped preening itself and looked at him, its head darting from side to side. It chirruped at him again and took off. A few seconds later, Jack spied it looping gracefully through the air seemingly over the top of the ship. He smiled.  
  
"I'll take that as an omen then," Jack murmured to himself looking again at the Prideful, "Hmm. Sparrow. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow," he looked toward the bird that was now a speck against the blue of the sky and chuckled, "Thanks mate."  
  
Now, how about that ship.  
  
*  
  
Jack shook himself slightly and turned back to the book. Daydreaming wouldn't help him now. It took him several more painful hours before he found the passage he wanted. The text referred to a bargain that had been struck between the Spanish and the Aztec. Payment had been the chest-full of missing gold. Jack sighed. Reading between the lines of history meant that the conquistadors had killed everyone and stole what they could. The passage stopped abruptly, simply saying that the church had considered Cortez' actions too harsh and had acted accordingly.  
  
Jack searched the passage again and found a mention of a date. Reaching for another book, the ship's log, he quickly found the passage the date referred to. Carefully, he tore out several pages and closed the book. He rolled them up and stuffed them into his shirt. Deciding that the library had told him everything it could, he stood and pulled the cowl of the robe closer around his face. He replaced the books on the shelves and made his way out of the scriptorium. He was surprised to find that dawn was lightening the sky in the east. and that the Brothers were awake and moving around.  
  
Jack quickly linked his hands together and adopted a meditative pose as he walked slowly towards the gardens and the rope he had hidden there to help him over the wall. He was brought up short by a hand on his shoulder. Jack cursed silently.  
  
"Brother," the monk said gently, "Mass will be held shortly. Walk with me to the chapel."  
  
Thinking quickly, Jack replied softly in a rounded accent, "I cannot, brother. I have... left my book by the shed in the gardens. I wish to retrieve it."  
  
The monk looked down at Jack's shadowed face, a frown slowly creasing his forehead, "I will accompany you."  
  
"That will not be necessary," Jack replied. He knew in the growing light of day that his disguise would not last much longer.  
  
"I think that I --" he began before a cry went up from the gardens.  
  
They had found the monk that Jack had tied up. Before the monk could blink, Jack had turned and was legging it down the colonnade. The robe was hindering his stride and in a flash he was out of it and throwing it into the face of two monks who stepped in front of him in an attempt at stopping him. They lurched as their vision was hampered and Jack swerved around them.  
  
The alarm having been raised, more monks were spilling out of doorways and Jack was running out of options.  
  
"Why on earth do these people get up so early!" he huffed to himself as he crashed through a set of doors and slammed them behind him. He grabbed a tall candlestick and jammed it through the door handles, "There. That should keep 'em."  
  
"Ahem..."  
  
Jack froze at the polite cough and then turned around slowly. He was in the chapel and about a score of monks were staring at him. Wincing inwardly, he chose to bluff his way out and gave them his most winning smile, raking back an errant strand of hair.  
  
"Hello mates!" he said jovially, sweeping down into an elaborate bow before carefully moving down the aisle, "Sorry about all the fuss. I was desperate for absolution and couldn't wait," he adopted a pained expression, "Father, bless me for I have sinned but I promise I'll go straight if I could just nip through..."  
  
"Pilgrim mass is in an hour. Please go through that door and wait with the others," the priest intoned stiffly, affronted at having his service interrupted. It was plain to Jack that they hadn't realised what was going on yet.  
  
"Of course Father," Jack crossed himself and held his hands together in prayer as he slid past the altar towards the indicated door, "Sorry. Sorry."  
  
He quickly opened the door and slipped through to find himself in a courtyard half filled with peasants, pilgrims and travellers. On the opposite side of the space was the high outer wall and the gate. Swiftly he wove his way through the throng to the gate muttering the odd apology as he pushed past. As nonchalantly as possible, he walked through the gate and ambled down the road past a few stragglers heading toward the monastery. He kept the steady pace until he was over the brow of a small rise where Jack broke into a dead run. He left the road, haring off across a stubbly field towards a creek that had cut a deep channel through the dirt.  
  
With a leap he splashed into the ankle deep water and collapsed down against the bank. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jack eased out of his vest the tightly rolled sheets he had torn from Cortez' log book and unrolled them. He glanced over them to check that they weren't too damaged then satisfied, re-rolled them and tucked them back. He stood up enough to look over the lip of the bank to check he wasn't being followed, then crouching over, splashed his way downstream.  
  
He grinned to himself. Cortez' treasure was one step closer.  
  
******************  
  
Please bear with me as it may take longer than expected to get the next chapter up and running. I promise it will be soon.  
  
^_~ 


	2. The Compass

The next instalment.  
  
Thanks to Shadow Phenix for your comments. You're right! I've watched it at least a dozen times now, yarr! (Its $13.50 a pop in Aussie! ^_~)  
  
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Jack sighed and glared at the compass. It sat on the stained and scarred table top and gleamed innocently at him. He took another swig from his mug and contemplated the thing. The puzzle of Cortez' hidden gold and this compass was driving him crazy. The pages he had taken from the log book at the monastery in Spain, in the end, had been no help at all. They had been vague and littered with false readings. Even using all of his knowledge of navigation (not enough) and that of his current midshipman Tom (more than adequate) they had only sailed around in circles for weeks before he had given up and in a fit of pique had sacked a few towns on the outer banks near Nassau.  
  
Needing to resupply and do some repairs on the Black Pearl, Jack had sailed into the Cays off Cuba and hove to in a pirate town that had what he needed - for a price of course. He had divvied up the crew's share of treasure and sent most of them ashore. Those who had wanted to stay, he put to work repairing his beloved frigate. It had taken a week to fix everything and re-provision. Some of the crew had come back to the Black Pearl after spending (or losing) everything. Those that returned, Jack set to guarding the ship as he and those that had stayed went ashore.  
  
The table rocked alarmingly and Jack rescued both the compass and his mug of rum before both were lost to the floor. The tavern was rowdier than usual tonight, in no small part due to some of the crew of the Black Pearl who were here to spend what was left of their share of booty.  
  
"Why so gloomy luv?" a feminine voice asked Jack.  
  
Jack looked up to see the scantily clad bosom of Ginger at eye level. He instantly brightened, forgetting his woes, and smiled charmingly at her chest. The only bit that he could see clearly.  
  
"I'm not gloomy, darling," he advised, "I was just telling meself that it's been too long since I saw such a lovely distraction."  
  
"Jack Sparrow! At least look me in the eye when you say that!" Ginger squealed as she sat down beside him and deftly took the mug from his hand and drank off a sizeable mouthful.  
  
"Now, now luv. No sense in wasting it," Jack admonished, taking back the mug and sculling it down in one hit.  
  
Ginger laughed and waived to the barmaid for a refill. She took the compass from his unresisting hand and opened it.  
  
"Funny thing this is. It ain't workin' right," she said, turning it this way and that watching the pointer.  
  
"No, its working perfectly," Jack said expansively, more than a little drunk, "I am going after Spanish gold luv. Lovely shiny gold."  
  
"Oh! Do tell, my love!" Ginger breathed in his ear.  
  
She was in no hurry to move on, it seemed, settling with Jack as if she could almost smell the gold on him. Jack smiled widely in anticipation and, with great flair, curled up the ends of his moustache. Ginger only giggled in delight and proceeded to muck them back up. Jack counted his lucky stars (a good double handful of gold coins in his belt) and lost himself in the soft and pleasurable company she offered.  
  
*  
  
Come morning, the sunlight was a highly objectionable intrusion on Jack's consciousness, stabbing painfully into his eyes as he opened them a crack. Jack was lying under some palm trees on the edge of the beach not far from town. He groaned and rolled over, the movement only making the pain worse. He had a foul taste in his mouth and the throbbing in his skull was monumental. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a bigger hangover.  
  
A shadow passed in front of the sun and Jack sighed in relief. His relief was short lived.  
  
"Well, well chums," the shadow boomed, "Lookit what we have 'ere. CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. Don't look too scarey now, do 'e boys."  
  
Jack's eyes flew open. A mistake, considering his tender state, but necessary. Looming over him were three ruffians. Two were fairly ordinary - typical seamen. The third's head was surrounded by a flaming red halo and looked familiar but he couldn't remember why.  
  
"Gentlemen," he slurred, levering himself into a sitting position, 'Hell my mouth feels like its full of sawdust and my head feels like its been used for cannon practice' - "What can I do for you."  
  
"Oh, I don' rightly know, CAPTAIN," the familiar man drawled, "Mebbe you can 'satisfy my ubiquitous yearning for adventure, mate'."  
  
Jack's sluggish mind suddenly sharpened to crystal clarity. Now he remembered who this was.  
  
"Red! I didn't recognise you, on account of me being down here," he replied quickly, 'How the hell did he find me here?' - "Let me just come up there and maybe we can--"  
  
"Oh no, Sparrow. I ain't makin' th' same mistake twice. Hold 'im boys," Red nodded and the two bravo's seized Jack in their vicelike grip and hauled him up.  
  
Jack hung somewhat limply, pinioned between the two men, but his mind was racing. In fact Red, or Rufus Callum, was a fellow pirate captain. Who had a grudge against Jack for stealing his ship. Did it matter that it was Jack's ship to begin with? Hell no.  
  
"You know, it was only fair," Jack said, a grin of bravado on his face, "I stole her first, then you stole her. I knew you stole her, but you didn't know that you knew that I knew she was stolen. So when you stole her you were in fact stealing stolen property which was just plain stealing, on account of--"  
  
"Shut up!" Red cried, his brows slowly beetling together as Jack waffled on, his patience obviously growing thin, "The Pearl was mine dammit!"  
  
"Er...no, actually, she was mine," Jack ventured, "I stole her fair and square and that technically means..."  
  
"No! Teck'nic'ly nothing!" roared Red, his face going an interesting shade of puce. Jack wondered idly in a small part of his mind if Red would drop dead of heart seizure, preferably soon, "She was mine! At him boys!"  
  
Red took a step closer to Jack, his arm cocking back to administer a thumping. Jack smiled and laughed suicidally which only furthered Red's rage. Bellowing, he rushed the last few steps. His roar of rage suddenly scaled up through the octaves to a high pitched squeak as Jack's boot buried itself in his crotch.  
  
"Sorry mate!" Jack cried, wincing in sympathy at the pain Red must be in.  
  
Nevertheless, he planted a boot in Red's face for good measure and used his momentum to spin himself over upside down between the two thugs. Their grip loosened with the shock of the sudden movement and Jack wrenched his hands free. With a sidestep, he had the cutlass off ruffian two's belt in his hands and he kicked out at the back of ruffian one's knee. Ruffian one went down with a howl, clutching his damaged knee. Ruffian two spun around to confront Jack and found his own cutlass waving around under his nose. He obviously thought better of crossing Jack because he turned and ran.  
  
Jack slowly lowered the sword and stuck it point first into the sand. He lent on it and passed a hand over his aching eyes. A tortured groan reminded him about Red. He dragged the sword from the sand and stepped towards the old pirate. Red was stilled curled up in a ball around his smarting nether regions. He looked up at Jack blearily as he was prodded gently with the sword.  
  
"Now," Jack said calmly, looking down at Red, "Why did you go and do that, ay? I was enjoying my sleep."  
  
Red grimaced through the blood seeping from his broken nose, "The Pearl 's mine."  
  
"Was yours," Jack corrected, "Briefly. Not ever again. You shouldn't persist in this, you know. It's a lost cause."  
  
"Gold is ne'er a lost cause," he spat.  
  
Jack frowned, "There be no gold between the decks of the Pearl. It's all been spent."  
  
"No. I haven' foun' it yet," Red hissed, a dreamy look in his eye. Jack wondered if he was passing out, but his gaze locked onto him as he continued, "Y' know where't is."  
  
"Ay?" Jack exclaimed, taking a step back at the fervor in Red's expression, "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Spanish gold I was promised an' Spanish gold I'll get," he growled, "A chest full there is. On th' Isle."  
  
"Your wits are addled, mate," Jack said smiling a bit nervously, his eyes quickly making sure this conversation wasn't being overheard.  
  
"I'll have it I will!" Red roared, surging back to his feet.  
  
Jack swung the cutlass at his head making Red duck awkwardly. His descending head met Jack's ascending boot. The impact jarred Jack's frame but it laid Red out cold.  
  
Jack had heard enough. It was time to leave. He checked his belt to make sure the compass was secure and his hand closed on thin air. It was gone. His eyes widened in shock and he felt slightly sick. Frantically he searched the sand where he had woken and didn't find it. Thinking back over the hazy events of the night, he decided that the last place he could remember being was the tavern. With Ginger. Gods, what had he said?  
  
Jack quickly retraced his steps and kicked open the door. He strode over to the table he had shared with the whore and checked the area. He established quickly that the compass wasn't there. Purposefully, he marched past the greasy bar and into the kitchen. The inn-keep was at the fire. He turned when he heard a noise and came face to face with Jack's stolen cutlass.  
  
"Ere! Get out you! How dare..." he blustered but quickly shut up when Jack chopped at the wooden spoon he was holding, cutting it in two.  
  
"The whore. Ginger. Where is she?" Jack demanded, "I'm waiting."  
  
"A-a-at Madam's. Th-th-third on the right up past the well." he stammered.  
  
Without a word, Jack turned and marched out. He stomped up the street, furious at the whore, Red, and at the whole dammed mess. The Iles de Muerta. That was where he had discovered Cortez had hidden the chest of gold. A good spot to hide it. The Iles de Muerta was an island that couldn't be found except by those that had been there. Jack knew this because he had just spent the last few months searching fruitlessly for it. And he had told the whore in a drunken moment and now Red, a pirate of the most scurrilous sort, turned up out of the blue and said he knew it existed and that Jack, or something on the Pearl knew how to get there. She must have told him.  
  
As he strode down the street, he passed a few of his crew. Angrily, he kicked them awake. They grumbled until they saw the expression on his face.  
  
"Make ready the Pearl. We leave on the tide." Jack growled at them.  
  
They nodded and ran for the harbour.  
  
He marched down the street and saw the well. Third on the right was the house, just like the inn-keep said. With barely a pause, Jack kicked in this door too. There was a feminine scream from inside as the door burst off its hinges. He halted in the entryway and looked around at the decor. He was obviously in a whorehouse. He grabbed the first girl to run past and, not ungently, demanded to know where Ginger was. Shaking with fear she pointed up the staircase.  
  
Jack let her go and bounded up the stairs, roaring her name. Down the landing a door opened a crack and there was a short scream before it was slammed shut. Jack charged it and shouldered it open, pushing away an overstuffed chair behind it. Ginger was up against her powder table, clutching a worn and threadbare robe around her. Her eyes went wide at the site of the cutlass clenched in his fist.  
  
"Compass." he demanded, holding out his hand.  
  
"I don' know wha' you're talkin' about." she cried.  
  
"Yes, you do. Where is it?" he took a step forward.  
  
With a shriek, Ginger started to grab things from her table and throw them at him. Glass bottles of scent, pots of make-up and bits of tin jewellery pelted him. Jack dodged past the worst of the missiles and grabbed a hand.  
  
"Ginger, I don't have time for this luv. I want the compass," he said staring into her eyes, "Now."  
  
"Why did you want it anyway?" she sniffed, "It's broken. I threw it away."  
  
Frustrated almost beyond endurance, Jack almost slapped her. Almost.  
  
"It is sentimental. An old friend gave it to me," he stared into her eyes, "Where?"  
  
Shaking hard, she pointed to a pile of junk in a corner. Jack thrust her away and strode to the corner. After a brief search he found it. He opened it, just to reassure himself that it was ok. As always, it wasn't pointing north. It was sort of pointing east north east today. With a sigh, he re-attached it to his belt and turned to the door.  
  
"Jack?" Ginger whispered.  
  
Jack paused briefly but didn't turn. He learned his lesson. He walked away.  
  
*  
  
Three days later, Jack was at the wheel of the Black Pearl, compass in hand. The Pearl had left the anchorage with barely enough crew to run the ship. That didn't matter. He had intended to pick up another crew in Tortuga anyway. The compass was what mattered. He had figured it out.  
  
The compass had belonged to Cortez. It had been with him when he had hidden the chest of gold. The compass wasn't broken at all. Not really. It did point in a direction. It pointed in one direction only. The way to the Iles de Muerta.  
  
After a brief stop to pick up the new crew, Jack intended to sail there and retrieve it. He had found that the gold was rumoured to be cursed, but Jack didn't believe in curses.  
  
He smiled as he steered to the wind.  
  
---------------------------  
  
There.  
  
The next bit done. I was having a bit of creative trouble 'till I watched the flick again. Jack will be back. He will meet an old friend and a new one. But can he trust them? 


End file.
